


Fellatio 101

by arthurmarston



Series: One-shots [3]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Bottom John Marston, Eventual Relationships, JUST KISS ALREADY, Kama Sutra, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Student John, Teacher Arthur, Top Arthur Morgan, Video Game: Red Dead Redemption 2 (2018), it’ll happen eventually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-02-29 20:09:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18785317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arthurmarston/pseuds/arthurmarston
Summary: Arthur teaches John about fellatio. And it turns out that John’s a fast and eager learner.





	Fellatio 101

It had been a week since John had been caught with Arthur’s journal. A week since Arthur had claimed John as his own; pressed himself so deep inside of John that he swore he wouldn’t walk straight for days. And a week since they’d spoken. That last realization hurt; John had no idea what had happened or what had changed. The last words they’d shared were saccharine-sweet goodbyes and afterwards, John laid in his tent, alone, with his heart fluttering and his mind foggy. 

Hell, Arthur had gone and drawn him naked in his journal - for all actuality’s purposes this time. It had happened. It wasn’t a dream. But Arthur was sure good at making John question if it may have been. 

The very next day after Arthur had thoroughly fucked John into a state of bliss, the younger man expected, more or less, at least a lingering set of eyes from the cowboy. But they never lingered nor even looked at him. It was as if he was being ignored on purpose, more than usual. He didn’t even get the ritualistic “Little Johnny Marston” calls either, though he did hear them from everyone else in camp. 

John felt sour. Confused. Did he do something wrong? Was it not mutual? He swore it was mutual. Hell, Arthur threw himself onto him... he at least remembered that. Mostly because he nearly shit himself thinking Arthur was going to crush his skull in when he’d first found his journal in John’s hands. 

Maybe he wasn’t a good lay. Maybe Arthur was drunk. 

No, he wasn’t drunk. 

Maybe he just didn’t want John. 

Yes, that was probably it. 

He’d seen Arthur twice today, once in the earlier hours when everyone had congregated around for Pearson’s stew, and then just nearly moments ago when Arthur had hitched his horse and returned from a hunt with Charles. Both times, John attempted to initiate contact with Arthur, and both times, Arthur looked past him like he was absolutely worthless. 

“Having a good day?” Charles had asked John when he saw the younger male wandering nearby. 

John nearly pouted because he wanted to talk to Arthur and Charles wasn’t Arthur. And everything that wasn’t Arthur wasn’t what John wanted. Childish, he knew. 

John sighed as he tapped his cigarette, eyes watching as the ashes fell from the end of it, before he brought it back to his lips to inhale deeply. He’d given Charles some haphazard reply - a reply he could not even remember - and the man had walked off with a simple, content smile. Arthur had went straight into his tent, flap closed over the entrance. John wasn’t doing much of anything, and quite honestly, he was rather angry with himself that all he’d done for the day was wonder why Arthur wasn’t talking to him. It was already mid-afternoon and he’d managed to change his clothes, brush his hair (yes, because, maybe Arthur would notice him), and then find a nice log to sit on and stare out at the nothingness that was the wilderness overlooking camp. 

John looked over at Arthur’s tent, biting at his lip as he tried to think of what to do. Part of him was feeling confident - wanting to barge into Arthur’s tent and demand they speak - the other half of him was excruciatingly terrified of the embarrassment and didn’t want to give Arthur the satisfaction of seeing him looking rattled with nerves. 

He brought the cigarette back up to his mouth, taking a few small puffs on it as he played with the options in his head. 

“I might as well.” He grumbled to himself as he made his choice, unwaveringly, and stood up from the log. He gave himself a few pats to wipe away any dirt on his pants, and then attempted to adjust himself to appear more “attractive” - fixing his hair, hands smoothing it over - and then adjusting his shirt collar to be slightly opened. And then he began the walk of shame that was from the log to Arthur’s tent. 

When he’d gotten there, he tapped his fingers a few times over the bars that made up the structure of the tent. And then his heart sunk into the pit of his stomach, because holy shit, what did he just do. 

“Yes?” Arthur had asked rather cheerfully, John’s throat constricting and no words coming out. He was obviously unaware of who was outside his tent, because he showed no signs of annoyance. 

But John was no Miss Tilly looking to chat nor was he Dutch looking to sing his praises and Arthur soon realized that when John’s hand poked into the tent in order to grab the flap and pull it back. 

“John?” The outlaw seemed confused, voice calm and collected. 

John was standing there now, awkwardly with a cigarette pressed between his lips, while Arthur peered up at him from his cot, pencil in hand and journal in his lap. 

“What are you doing?” Arthur asked now, a brow going up as if he wasn’t understanding why John had opened his tent. 

“I...” John began as he pulled the cigarette away, “I wanted to talk.” He said, amazed that Arthur was even speaking to him. He really could’ve sworn he’d never hear that voice ever mutter his name again. But maybe that was a tinge dramatic. It was hard to say. 

“You wanna talk? ‘Bout what?” 

John felt flustered now. Why was he playing dumb? “About us.”

“Okay.” Arthur hummed out, closing his journal and then setting it aside on the grassy floor surrounding his cot. He motioned for John to come in, and the younger man took it and closed the flap behind him. 

John took a cautious seat, trying to keep distance between their legs despite the small size of Arthur’s mattress in comparison to John’s own. He didn’t have a wife and a kid to sleep with, no, that was just John. Explained a lot. 

“So? You was sayin’?” Arthur asked, brows furrowed as he looked over John. 

“I was wondering... why... we wasn’t speaking.” The words felt dumb even saying; and Arthur looked as confused as John sounded. He took a drag from the cigarette to ease himself, blowing the smoke opposite of Arthur. 

“We wasn’t?” 

“No?” John replied awkwardly, tiptoeing around the major point of it all. “You ain’t said a word to me since last week.” 

“I wasn’t aware.” Arthur stated innocently, though John could swear now that he knew Arthur was doing this on purpose. 

“I just wanted to know if I did something wrong. I’ been feelin’ ignored all week, and I don’t like it.” John sighed out, a hand coming up to run through his hair, attempting to wrangle some of the wild strands away from his eyes. 

“Since when do you care if I talk to you? You always duck and run when I’m around.” Arthur gave a small smirk and John felt a pang in his chest. “You think I’ been ignorin’ you all week on purpose?” 

John nodded his head slowly, unsure, but wanting to tread lightly. 

“Well, I have been.” There was that smirk again. 

John went to take another anxious inhale from his cigarette, only to have Arthur’s fingers come up and delicately pluck it from his mouth. 

“Really.” John huffed in response, though he quieted when he watched Arthur take the cigarette and bring it to his own lips, inhaling it, and then closing his eyes as he exhaled. John’s mouth felt dry, lips still parted from when he’d been about to smoke. 

“But it’s all in good fun,” Arthur began now, smoking away at Johns cigarette as if it had come from his own jacket. 

“I don’t think I understand what’s fun about it.” John stated flatly, wishing he was bold enough to grab the cigarette back from Arthur’s mouth. 

Arthur gave a laugh and then took one more puff from the cigarette before dropping it into an empty bottle of whiskey sitting alongside his mattress on a small table. “I’ve been bein’ this way to piss you off, Marston. Clearly it worked.” 

“No. It didn’t work.” John grumbled back, rolling his eyes. 

Arthur laughed again, this time much more loudly and John shushed him immediately. “You’re tellin’ me that me ignoring you didn’t bother you, yet you came all the way over to my tent just to ask me why I weren’t talkin’ to you! What do you call that, boy? What’s that then?” 

John pouted, wordless, because Arthur was absolutely right. John had been completely obsessed with the thought of Arthur all week; everything he did was in attempts to impress Arthur. And every time Arthur ignored him, it stung like shit. 

“You ain’t gonna answer me?” Arthur asked, leaning in a bit and gaining John’s attention. 

“No... yes... I don’t know.” He sighed as he scratched at the back of his head. “I just... I don’t know why I’m even here. I don’t know what I’m expecting. I don’t know what I expected even last time it was just you and me and a bed.” John let out a shaky breath, “I couldn’t walk right for days and I loved it.”

Arthur seemed impressed. Probably with himself. “So then it seems everything worked out. Now you’re back for more.”

John protested, “I weren’t saying that.”

“No?” Arthur teased, going to grab his journal now and scooting himself ever so slightly closer to John’s body. 

“Well... I mean...” 

“Shhh.” Arthur said as he pried open his journal, shuffling through the pages until he’d stopped on one in particular. “You feelin’ adventurous, Little Johnny Marston? Or have I gotten this entire meeting wrong and you’re actually here to just chat?” 

John was wide-eyed now, a redness forming on his cheeks that crawled all the way down the front of his chest. He could feel the heat. “No, no... I’m not here to chat.” He admitted, sitting up and trying to be as forward as he could be. Because, deep down, John knew he’d come in here for two things: one; to figure out why they weren’t fucking, and two; to fuck afterwards. 

“You ever heard of the Kama Sutra?” Arthur questioned him, tapping his fingers along the journal. 

John looked confused. “The what?”

Arthur laughed. “I know you just learned the alphabet like yesterday but, geez, Marston, you need to read a book or two.” 

John rolled his eyes, “just tell me and spare me the jokes.” 

“Well,” Arthur shrugged, “it’s an ol’ ancient Indian book that an Englishman translated. I got a copy of it in Saint Denis. It’s like a manual, but for different sexual positions. I ain’t read all of it, but, there’s a lot you ain’t never even done I bet.” 

“You’re probably not wrong. Don’t need a book to tell me I’m sheltered.” John said with a shrug, wondering where Arthur was going with his story. 

“Just shut up and listen.” 

John’s heart fluttered in his chest now. Arthur had his full attention. 

“You heard of fellatio?”

John shook his head. 

“Comes from a Latin word, been told.” Arthur was always so much more cultured than he was and it turned him on to no end. The outlaw handed the journal over to John now, a drawing of them much like the ones he’d seen just last week filling one of the pages. It took John a moment to determine what he was seeing, and then it clicked, and he instantly felt himself growing hard.

“You do this.” Arthur said as he pointed to the drawing he’d made of John with his lips wrapped around Arthur’s own cock rather crudely. 

“When did you draw this? Jesus Christ, Arthur.” John said as he looked over the drawing, catching all the little details. It certainly looked like them. “Do you just spend all your free time drawing me in sexual positions?” 

Arthur snickered. “You’d be surprised by how many journals I’ve filled with your face.” 

John’s brow arched high in curiosity but he said nothing. Instead, he studied the drawing more. John had never had anyone do that to him, let alone ever thought of trying it on someone else. 

“It’s fellatio. That’s what they talk about in the book. They got all these terms and whatnot, but it’s real simple. You open your mouth and do as I say.” 

John was speechless, hell, he was scared now. Not because he wasn’t up for a challenge, but because he’d never done this before. At all. And of course, he’d never been fucked by a man before Arthur, but it was a lot easier to play along when he’d fucked a hefty amount of women. But fellatio? He’d only heard of an act like that in disorderly houses and it costed more than the average lay. 

“So what do you say, Little Johnny Marston?” Arthur cooed out, using that pet name for all its worth. He knew John was game, and that’s why he started laying back on the cot without even getting a reply, journal being closed and set aside. 

“So... I’m just...” John mumbled awkwardly as he started shifting to sit up onto his knees, crawling himself forward to Arthur’s body. He brought his hands to one of Arthur’s suspenders, snapping the button on the first one before repeating the process with the second one, a small smile on his face despite his trembling fingers. 

Arthur had his hands intertwined together behind his head to support himself, smugly watching every move John was making. 

“Just keep going?” John asked timidly as he brought his fingers to the front of Arthur’s pants, carefully undoing them before pausing for permission. 

“I didn’t say stop, did I?” Arthur hummed out, shifting his weight a bit so that he was sitting up more for a better view. 

John shook his head, finger tips now digging into Arthur’s hips as he began to slide his pants down towards his knees before moving to work on the buttons that kept Arthur’s shirt together. He always dressed so nice - at least in comparison to John - the red shirt he had on was free of wrinkles and had been perfectly tucked into his pants. Always the impressive one.

When he had finished undoing the final button on the shirt, he slowly opened it with his palms, sliding them under the shirt from Arthur’s stomach and then carefully rubbing his hands towards the outlaw’s shoulders, the shirt falling away at both sides as he reached the top.

Arthur chuckled quietly, eyes never leaving John. “You’re like a woman.” He said, amused with how careful John was being, especially in comparison to how Arthur had been with him just last week. 

John was flushed all over again. “Shut up.” He muttered, continuing what he’d been doing, now bending over to press a few kisses to Arthur’s chest, careful and delicate. As if testing the waters. When Arthur didn’t protest, John kept going - lips trailing downwards and scattering all across his toned stomach, John even feeling the occasional strain of muscle beneath his lips as he went over certain areas. 

“Being a tease, huh?” Arthur sighed out, licking at his lips as John made eye contact with him. 

John was silent in his reply, simply smiling and making his way back up, this time using his tongue to drag a continuous wet, warm line from below Arthur’s naval all the way up to the depression in his chest where his sternum was. John climbed into Arthur’s lap to straddle him, then brought his lips to Arthur’s neck, recently shaven and soft to his lips, and sucked softly on the skin there. 

Finally, Arthur let out a moan, low and quiet, and let his head fall back against the mattress, hands moving to find the small of John’s back, rubbing small circles into him. The younger could feel the bugle forming now in Arthur’s drawers. John felt a swell of pride. 

John laughed, “you know I’ve no clue what I’m doin’.” His lips trailed kisses across Arthur’s jaw now and he paused at his chin, pulling back slightly when he’d realized how close he was to Arthur’s mouth. The two stared at each other, absolutely silent. John wouldn’t dare kiss Arthur on the lips... less he wanted to get slapped upside the head for it. And he didn’t. 

“What are you doing?” Arthur asked quietly, their lips so close that he’d been tempted to reach up and close the gap. 

“Nothing,” John panicked inwardly, pulling back and sitting up in Arthur’s lap now. He wasn’t going to make this into something it wasn’t - right? 

Arthur seemed a bit confused, mixed with something else John couldn’t quite make out in his head. Disappointed? Hurt? He wasn’t sure. But he was determined to get them back on track, hands now moving to undo the buttons on his vest before shimming himself out of it. He then worked himself out of his shirt, lifting it off and over his head. He tossed it aside, not watching where it landed. “Now we’re a bit more even.” He said aloud, earning a small smile from Arthur. 

“Sure.” The older man replied with his usual dialect, the word rolling right off his tongue. 

Arthur was so tan in comparison to John and the younger man almost felt weird about how much he was enjoying the sight of Arthur shirtless. But he said nothing, leaving the musings to himself, and brought his hands to Arthur’s drawers, groaning quietly to himself as he realized there were even more buttons for him to fumble with. “They really oughta invent some better options than these things. Annoying.” John grumbled to himself, trying to get them undone as quickly as he could. He worked on carefully dragging the tight-fitting material down Arthur’s thighs, a sigh leaving the both of them when Arthur’s erection slipped out. 

“Damn...” John gasped out as he overlooked Arthur in all his naked glory - it was exciting and terrifying at the same time. He hadn’t really had the chance to study Arthur the last time they’d been together; everything was so fast and rough that he really didn’t get to admire much. And now, here he was, literally staring at Arthur’s erection, eyes wide. 

“I’m guessing you like what you see.” Arthur said as he reached a hand out now to tap lightly at John’s cheek. “You’ll catch flies.” He teased, to which John closed his gaping mouth and blushed. 

“I’m just... yea. It’s nice. Didn’t get the best view last time.” He admitted, embarrassed but not as ashamed as he’d expected to be. 

“I got a great view last time.” Arthur commented, earning a pleading look from John that silently screamed for him to shut up. 

“So what do I do...” John asked now, biting at his lip. 

“Start with your hands. Use your spit.” 

“Right...” John mumbled, now awkwardly spitting into his open palm and then bringing it to Arthur’s length, wrapping his calloused fingers around it and then beginning to slowly stroke the other man. This wasn’t so hard - not yet anyway - because he’d done this on his own plenty of times. Abigail never did that great of a job and John never understood why because the concept seemed so simple to him. “How’s this?” He questioned as he began to work up a rhythm, going from base to tip, freehand cupping underneath at his balls, massaging into them. 

Arthur kicked out a leg against the mattress, a guttural groan eliciting from his throat. “It’s good. Real good. Keep doin’ it. More spit.”

John obliged, opting to spit directly over the head of Arthur’s cock, smirking as he made eye contact with the older man, the spit dribbling slowly from his lips. He used his thumb to rub it into the head, teasingly circling over the slit. 

“Shit, Marston,” Arthur sighed out, trying to sit up more to better see what was happening. 

John picked up the pace just a bit, adding in a bit more pressure from his palm and then groaning to himself because he was so hard that it was beginning to hurt. “Should I try... the other thing...?” He asked quietly, nervous but trying not to let it show. 

Arthur’s face looked flushed for once - the slightest tinge of scarlet at the arches of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. He was clearly enjoying himself. “Mhm. Real easy. Just use your mouth and your tongue. Gentle on the teeth.” 

John took that last part as a mental note - do not bite. Definitely understood. He swallowed hard, awkwardly leaning down now, ignoring the heavy pounding of his pulse in his ears, and brought Arthur’s cock carefully into his mouth. Arthur definitely was well-endowed and thicker than he’d anticipated, John feeling overwhelmed and unsure of what to do. 

Arthur could see the apprehension in John’s eyes. “Start slow, boy. Bring it in and out of your mouth.”

John gave a small nod, beginning to slowly bob his head up and down, sucking at the tip and bringing his hand back to Arthur’s shaft to supplement what he couldn’t handle. 

Arthur moaned out so loudly he was sure the entire camp was going to hear them, John’s eyes wide as they looked at each other. “Fuck... that’s so fucking good. I don’t know why I waited so long to try this, shit, Marston...” Arthur cried out, heels kicking into the bed and a hand coming up to stroke at John’s face. “Keep doing that. And then try using your tongue.”

John couldn’t help but smile to himself, feeling a bit proud that whatever he was doing, he was apparently doing it right. He could taste a slight saltiness as he flicked his tongue along Arthur’s tip, spitting, and then bringing the head back into his mouth with a couple licks. The skin was so soft - like silk - and warm, and honestly, John was beginning to enjoy himself more than he anticipated. “L-Like this?” The younger asked as he repeated his actions, tongue lingering longer this time as he licked up along the shaft, Arthur shuddering in response. 

“Just like that.” Arthur praised, giving John’s cheek a small tap. “Such a good boy, you are.”

John could stay in this moment forever - he had Arthur’s full attention and he never wanted to lose it. He kept licking, alternating between that and soft sucks at Arthur’s tip, trying to do as best as he could to please the man. 

“Think you can handle more?” Arthur asked quietly between soft breaths, eyes half-lidded and lips parted. 

John nodded despite his anxiety and attempted to take more of Arthur into his mouth, the younger man hallowing out his cheeks and closing his eyes. He felt a hand come to the back of his head, gripping at his hair, and then pressing him down more. More. And more. And holy shit, he was gagging. He felt Arthur hit at the back of his throat and all he could do was choke, the noises of his struggling filling the tent while Arthur mercilessly pushed him down. 

After a moment or so, Arthur pulled him off, moaning and letting his head fall back. 

John’s eyes had welled up in reaction, face red and panting. He could feel his spit dripping down his chin to his neck. “Way to almost kill me.” He said between gasps, “what were you doing? Trying to fuck my throat?”

Arthur smirked, as if he’d done nothing wrong. “Yes. Try again.” 

“Try again?” John echoed. It was a strange sensation - choking on Arthur’s cock wasn’t exactly how he’d thought he’d die, but maybe it wasn’t the worse way to pass. He shrugged, “if you say so.” And then gave it his damn best to bring Arthur further into his mouth without gagging. 

“Fuck, John,” Arthur whined, hands again taking John’s hair and tangling them up in his knuckles like reigns. He pushed John down again, the younger attempting to fight that gagging sensation for as long as he could. When he felt Arthur hit the back of his throat, he exhaled and closed his eyes. He gagged just a bit - but he held it. 

Arthur began to pull John off again, but this time he pushed him back down moments later. John braced himself as best he could, hands gripping harshly at Arthur’s thighs as the older man proceeded to work up a rhythm using John’s mouth for his own personal desires. 

John was gagging and making these animalistic noises in between each thrust into his throat, but he would be lying if he didn’t acknowledge the swelling of pride in his chest from how well he was doing with pleasing Arthur. John was born to please - and in this case - he really could get used to doing this with Arthur more often. 

“I’m gettin’ close, shit,” Arthur suddenly said as he pulled John away from his length, the younger taking the moment to catch his breath, lips deep red and face slick with both spit and sweat. That saltiness had gotten stronger now, a smirk on his lips. 

“You was enjoyin’ that, that much, hm?” John said between pants, licking at his lips and then suddenly getting the idea to dip down and lick along one of the prominent veins on Arthur’s shaft. He brought himself lower, nuzzling his nose against the underside now and then bringing one of Arthur’s balls gently into his mouth to suck. This whole ‘fellatio’ thing wasn’t so bad and he had no clue why normal folk shunned it off as a devil deed. 

“Ah... easy, you’re gonna make me shoot myself all over that pretty face, boy,” Arthur warned, stomach muscles visibly clenching as he tried not to buck his hips upwards from the pleasure. 

John considered it for a moment. He had no clue what that would be like at all. Gross? Not gross? Is anything gross when it comes to Arthur Morgan? Nothing really came to mind. And so he kept doing what he shouldn’t be doing, a free hand wrapping around Arthur’s cock to aid in getting him closer, now pumping him quickly in his grasp while his mouth continued to lick and suck at Arthur’s balls, wanting to get him off in a way he’d never felt before in his life. 

“John, John... you’re killin’ me...” Arthur continued to warn between heavy groans, hands again finding the younger’s hair, this time just to tangle his fingers there for the contact. 

“I’m tryin’ to,” John moaned out, “want you to spill it all over my face. I want it.” He said, voice low and eyes filled with lust. He wouldn’t let up, not even when Arthur tried to pull him off. His lips wrapped back around the head, mouth much more confidently bobbing up and down and sucking on Arthur’s shaft, as if begging him to let go. 

“I’m so close, shit,” Arthur hissed out, hips jerking up into John’s mouth, the soft gag that followed making Arthur groan even more. 

“C’mon, do it for me.” John begged, and damnit he couldn’t believe what the hell he was doing. He moved his mouth off, replacing the loss of contact again with his hand, face now right below Arthur’s cock as he laid flat on his stomach. Waiting. Pleading with the older man. He stroked him faster and harder, even opening his mouth and holding his tongue out to catch some of what was to come. 

“I... I’m...John-!” Arthur couldn’t hold back anymore, his orgasm ripping through him in a way he’d never felt before, all the pressure releasing finally. He felt himself spilling hard, the warm ribbons hitting all over John’s face, into his mouth, and some of it even getting caught in his hair. 

The younger man said nothing, staying as still as possible to let Arthur finish off before closing his mouth to swallow. It wasn’t the most pleasant taste in the world, but it was Arthur and it was his reward for how well he’d done and he fucking wanted it. “Fuck, Arthur,” John gasped out as he attempted to lick his lips now, feeling the warm stickiness dripping down his cheeks and his forehead and causing this sick, twisted heat to build in his stomach. He kept pumping at Arthur’s length, letting the outlaw ride off his orgasm for as long as he could. 

“You did so fucking good, John, so good,” Arthur panted out as he slowly regained his composure. He brought a hand to cup at John’s cheek as the younger sat up finally, wiping away some of what had gotten close to John’s eye. 

The younger smiled in his praises, proud of himself, and delighted to know he’d done a good job. “I ain’t never done anything like that with anyone before. That was somethin’ else.” John admitted, laughing, and then graciously accepting the towel that Arthur had passed him. 

John wiped his face and hair as best as possible, knowing he’d have to escape for the nearby lake otherwise he’d be getting some questionable looks from the other folk at camp. Looks he certainly wasn’t going to explain for. And then he noticed his own painful, neglected erection and groaned as he pressed a palm down into his pants. 

Arthur was still splayed out on the mattress, making no attempts to move. 

John coughed, purposefully, and then tilted his head down towards himself. “What do I do with this?” He asked, hoping Arthur would have the right idea. 

But instead, Arthur simply smirked, now reaching for his pack of smokes and a match, striking it and then lighting up one of the cigarettes to bring it to his lips. “You’re dismissed, John Marston.” He snickered to which John frowned. 

“What! But what about me?” He protested but Arthur shrugged, taking a couple hits from the cigarette and exhaling. 

“You’ll just have to wait til I get my energy back, won’t you? It’s not my fault you were so good at fellatio that my dick fell asleep right after you finished the job.” Arthur teased, using his foot to kick over John’s shirt towards the younger’s direction. “Go clean yourself up. Can’t have the camp knowing you’ve got such a hidden talent, boy. That mouth is mine now, ya hear?”

John whined, a blush finding its way right back onto his face like it had never even left. ‘That mouth is mine now.’ Those words. They weren’t supposed to mean anything and yet all John could do was think about them suddenly. “You’re an asshole, Arthur Morgan.” He said with a pout, going to put his shirt back on. 

“Sure am.” Arthur laughed, cigarette dangling from his lips. “But at least you know there will be a next time to look forward to.”

**Author's Note:**

> SighS because they clearly should kiss but they’re also two dumb cowboys who don’t know any better. 
> 
> Don’t ask how I’ve managed to write like 3 different stories in a week, I have a problem ;-; hahahaha. 
> 
> As promised, here’s a continuation of my first one shot - “Little Johnny Marston”! This time with my best attempt at a work around for the lack of oral sex that was happening in the Wild West. Arthur brings it to the people single-handedly. Thanks Arthur. 
> 
> I also completely trashed my internet search history trying to find relevant terms for come and as it turns out I couldn’t find a damn one so if anyone actually knows time appropriate terms for it I would be so haPPY to knOW theM!!! 
> 
> Please let me know in the comments what Arthur should teach/do to John next. ;)


End file.
